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Ragged Lady — Volume 1 by William Dean Howells
page 79 of 114 (69%)
"Say Fane fust told you about 'em?"

"Yes. 'He'e's a package for you,' he said. Just that way; and he couldn't
tell me who left it, or anything."

"Anybody asked him about it since?"

"Oh, yes! Mrs. Milray, and Mrs. Atwell, and Mr. Atwell, and everybody."

"Everybody." The chef smiled with a peculiar droop of one eye. "And he
didn't know when the slippas got into the landlo'd's box?"

"No. The fust thing he knew, the' they we'e!" Clementina stood expectant,
but the chef smoked on as if that were all there was to say, and seemed
to have forgotten her. "Who do you think put them thea, Mr. Mahtin?"

The chef looked up as if surprised to find her still there. "Oh! Oh, yes!
Who d' I think? Why, I know, Boss. But I don't believe I'd betta tell
you."

"Oh, do, Mr. Mahtin! If you knew how I felt about it--"

"No, no! I guess I betta not. 'Twouldn't do you any good. I guess I won't
say anything moa. But if I was in youa place, and I really wanted to know
whe'e them slippas come from--"

"I do--I do indeed--"

The chef paused before he added, "I should go at Fane. I guess what he
don't know ain't wo'th knowin', and I guess nobody else knows anything.
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